The cry of seagulls awoke Kenji, his salt crusted eyes peeling open. For a moment he wasn’t sure why he was laying on this beach. Then the events of the night before came back to him. They had been sailing as a convoy, guarding a supply run of mining tools when a Kuroten raiding party had ambushed them in the night. The thundering clap of cannon fire and the screaming of men echoed in his mind. Then his ship had been rammed, the impact throwing him to the deck, the cracking and splintering of wood filling his ears. He had struggled to stand up, but the deck was drenched in both blood and saltwater. And then the floor had given out from under him, plunging him into the ocean. Weighed down by his armor, Kenji was certain his fate was to drown that night. Yet as his vision went black, he was sure someone or something had grabbed his arm and pulled him to the surface, but his memory went blank after that.
With his aching body nestled in the soft sand he was tempted to drift back to sleep, but his throat was ravaged with thirst. His tongue felt rough and dry, like a piece of cured meat and the salt taste after licking his lips didn’t help. Struggling, Kenji sat up, his sore muscles burning with the effort. Morning mist hung low, obscuring most of his vision, but up and down the beach he could see parts of ships and bodies being washed up. Scavengers had already begun to pick at the corpses, seagulls flocked and fought over them as crabs scuttled amongst their legs. Down the beach a raggedy white cat was sniffing at a hand of a freshly washed up corpse. Brushing a crab off his foot, Kenji stood up.
He checked his back only to realize he had lost his swords somewhere, he could only imagine they now rested at the bottom of the sea. He cursed both himself and the sea repeatedly, for a saburashi to lose their swords was the greatest shame to their reputation. Each set was unique and handmade during the saburashi graduation ceremony. Even if he were to go and make a new set, they’d never be the same. Perhaps he could scrounge replacements in the meantime. He began jogging up and down the beach, checking the bodies to see if any saburashi corpses had washed up. The mist felt unnaturally thick on this island. He wasn’t quite sure where they had been when they were attacked and could not even guess what island he had ended up on.
As he lifted what was once a very expensive alchemy table off a corpse, Kenji racked his brains for any mention of how far from Kyodai they had sailed before being attacked. They’d left port near midday, but weren’t hit till well after sundown. Unfortunately this information meant nothing to Kenji. He had never been a sailor, nor learned how to navigate at sea, but trying to figure it out at least kept his mind busy. He pulled a water skin off a body and drank what was left of it, the salty taste of the ocean lingered in his mouth. At the very least, he prayed to as many gods as he could remember that this island was inhabited by people.
Continuing down the beach Kenji heard the squawking of a large group of seagulls. Following it, he came across a massive shapethat loomed from the mist. The stench of blood and brine wafted down his throat, making him cough. As he drew closer, the giant head of a sea turtle emerged from the fog, it’s blank eyes being pecked at by birds. It’s head was capped by an iron helmet with spikes hammered into its cranium to hold it on. Several ballista missiles jutted from the base of it’s skull, no doubt the cause of its death. This must have been one of the Kuroten navy’s infamous turtle ships. Peaceful creatures dragged back to their prison ports to be tortured and converted into enslaved war machines. A hot sensation burned up in Kenji’s chest, the Kuroten had no honor and deserved no mercy for their crimes against nature. Bowing his head, he said muttered a short prayer for the unnecessary death of the turtle.
As the day went on, the mist began to dissipate, revealing a scorching sun beating down on Kenji. His throat dry and his skin crusted over with salt and sand, he turned to head inland. Perhaps he could find a freshwater spring, or at the very least some shade. But as he turned, something caught his foot and went sprawling into the ground. Kenji turned to look at what he had tripped over. At first he thought it was just a log, poking out from beneath the sand, but man made carvings caught his eye. He knelt down and began digging it out until he found himself looking at the carving of a face. A face that looked all to similar to his own.
A rough, guttural voice spoke as a spear point nudged the small of Kenji’s back. He froze and raised his hands in surrender before turning slowly to face the man. The speaker was a short, thin man, his hair and beard bleached white. His face looked as if it were made of leather and he wore a one piece tunic, made of dried grass. Around his neck were numerous charms, each with a crude carving depicting the same face. The man’s yellowed eyes widened and his mouth opened, revealing his few remaining teeth. He quickly dropped his spear and collapsed into a bow at Kenji’s feet.
The cry of seagulls awoke Kenji, his salt crusted eyes peeling open. For a moment he wasn’t sure why he was laying on this beach. Then the events of the night before came back to him. They had been sailing as a convoy, guarding a supply run of mining tools when a Kuroten raiding party had ambushed them in the night. The thundering clap of cannon fire and the screaming of men echoed in his mind. Then his ship had been rammed, the impact throwing him to the deck, the cracking and splintering of wood filling his ears. He had struggled to stand up, but the deck was drenched in both blood and saltwater. And then the floor had given out from under him, plunging him into the ocean. Weighed down by his armor, Kenji was certain his fate was to drown that night. Yet as his vision went black, he was sure someone or something had grabbed his arm and pulled him to the surface, but his memory went blank after that.
With his aching body nestled in the soft sand he was tempted to drift back to sleep, but his throat was ravaged with thirst. His tongue felt rough and dry, like a piece of cured meat and the salt taste after licking his lips didn’t help. Struggling, Kenji sat up, his sore muscles burning with the effort. Morning mist hung low, obscuring most of his vision, but up and down the beach he could see parts of ships and bodies being washed up. Scavengers had already begun to pick at the corpses, seagulls flocked and fought over them as crabs scuttled amongst their legs. Down the beach a raggedy white cat was sniffing at a hand of a freshly washed up corpse. Brushing a crab off his foot, Kenji stood up.
He checked his back only to realize he had lost his swords somewhere, he could only imagine they now rested at the bottom of the sea. He cursed both himself and the sea repeatedly, for a saburashi to lose their swords was the greatest shame to their reputation. Each set was unique and handmade during the saburashi graduation ceremony. Even if he were to go and make a new set, they’d never be the same. Perhaps he could scrounge replacements in the meantime. He began jogging up and down the beach, checking the bodies to see if any saburashi corpses had washed up. The mist felt unnaturally thick on this island. He wasn’t quite sure where they had been when they were attacked and could not even guess what island he had ended up on.
As he lifted what was once a very expensive alchemy table off a corpse, Kenji racked his brains for any mention of how far from Kyodai they had sailed before being attacked. They’d left port near midday, but weren’t hit till well after sundown. Unfortunately this information meant nothing to Kenji. He had never been a sailor, nor learned how to navigate at sea, but trying to figure it out at least kept his mind busy. He pulled a water skin off a body and drank what was left of it, the salty taste of the ocean lingered in his mouth. At the very least, he prayed to as many gods as he could remember that this island was inhabited by people.
Continuing down the beach Kenji heard the squawking of a large group of seagulls. Following it, he came across a massive shapethat loomed from the mist. The stench of blood and brine wafted down his throat, making him cough. As he drew closer, the giant head of a sea turtle emerged from the fog, it’s blank eyes being pecked at by birds. It’s head was capped by an iron helmet with spikes hammered into its cranium to hold it on. Several ballista missiles jutted from the base of it’s skull, no doubt the cause of its death. This must have been one of the Kuroten navy’s infamous turtle ships. Peaceful creatures dragged back to their prison ports to be tortured and converted into enslaved war machines. A hot sensation burned up in Kenji’s chest, the Kuroten had no honor and deserved no mercy for their crimes against nature. Bowing his head, he said muttered a short prayer for the unnecessary death of the turtle.
As the day went on, the mist began to dissipate, revealing a scorching sun beating down on Kenji. His throat dry and his skin crusted over with salt and sand, he turned to head inland. Perhaps he could find a freshwater spring, or at the very least some shade. But as he turned, something caught his foot and went sprawling into the ground. Kenji turned to look at what he had tripped over. At first he thought it was just a log, poking out from beneath the sand, but man made carvings caught his eye. He knelt down and began digging it out until he found himself looking at the carving of a face. A face that looked all to similar to his own.
“Stop right there, you trespass on holy ground!”
A rough, guttural voice spoke as a spear point nudged the small of Kenji’s back. He froze and raised his hands in surrender before turning slowly to face the man. The speaker was a short, thin man, his hair and beard bleached white. His face looked as if it were made of leather and he wore a one piece tunic, made of dried grass. Around his neck were numerous charms, each with a crude carving depicting the same face. The man’s yellowed eyes widened and his mouth opened, revealing his few remaining teeth. He quickly dropped his spear and collapsed into a bow at Kenji’s feet.
“Blessed Takahashi! You have returned!”